


sweater weather

by Carcharias



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, M/M, Sweater Sex, callous treatment of expensive wool, general disregard for clean furniture, just a little, neck kink, waste of good hot chocolate, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carcharias/pseuds/Carcharias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris' boyfriend has no respect for others' property.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweater weather

**Author's Note:**

> My first NC-17 fic, and first time writing smut in full sentences outside of a 140 character limit. Originally posted in Day Four of yifantasy fall 2015. Thanks to naegastar for looking over and editing this. Fun fact: this fic was almost titled "freeballin'", but I decided to pretend that I have taste, and used the title of the song by The Neighbourhood instead.

Kris slams the car door and rushes for the elevator in his apartment’s parking deck, trying to minimize the time spent exposing himself to the frigid air. He barely remembers to lock the car in the process, fumbling with the keys shoved into the pocket of his wool peacoat. He could’ve worn a warmer coat, but he wanted to look his best for the client meeting he’d had this morning, wanted to make an impression, and while comfy and warm, his purple down parka doesn’t exactly scream “professional put-together wedding planner.”

This client is a big deal, a rich businessman and his semi-famous Chinese footballer fiancé, recommended to Kris by his equally rich friend Joonmyun— _note to self, send Joonmyun a basket of chocolate truffles, the nice kind_ —and doing their wedding could really propel Kris’s business forward, not to mention allow him to maybe, finally, get a new designer armchair to match his new designer couch. The simple things.

So he’d woken up early on a _Sunday_ to meet this couple for brunch, and went to put on his favorite sweater, the soft grey one that he knew looked both classy and really fucking good on him, only to empty the contents of his drawers on the floor looking for it. Baekhyun had _said_ he hadn’t seen it (or at least, that’s what his sleepy mumbling from the bed had sounded like), and Kris didn’t have time to really search, so he’d chosen another, less nice sweater and worn the peacoat to compensate.

He’s regretting that now, but only a little, because they’d loved his ideas and had hired him. Kris wants to skip through the halls but _it’s really fucking cold,_ even in the elevator, so he just hustles for his front door and the promise of warmth.

Inside, he immediately shucks off his outerwear and shoes, throwing them haphazardly at the nearby side table (except his scarf, a gift from his mother, which he carefully hangs on the coat rack). His bag goes on the same table—he can look at his notes later. 

“I’m back,” he yells, making a beeline for the couch and nearby space heater. He can hear movement in the kitchen, and Baekhyun’s voice calls out “I’m making hot chocolate, you want some?”

Baekhyun makes really nice hot chocolate; it’s about the only thing he _can_ make, and he almost never does. “Hell yes,” Kris shouts back, flopping on the couch and crouching towards the blessed but tiny radius of heat around the space heater, hands outstretched. He briefly notes a pile of blankets at one end of the couch where Baekhyun was probably curled up watching shitty morning television. He closes his eyes, sighing happily as the feeling creeps back into his fingers, heat chasing the cold away with tiny pinpricks.

Eventually he hears the sound of socked feet padding closer, the clink of a mug on the coffee table. “There you go,” Baekhyun chirps somewhere close on his left, and Kris feels slim fingers thread their way into his hair, scritching at the back of his neck. On the list of parts of Baekhyun that Kris likes best, his fingers might be at the top, though that kind of depends on how he’s using them. Buried in his hair like they are now, they’re sublime. Jabbing into his side when he wants the remote, less so. 

But right now, Kris revels in the feel of delicate fingers on his scalp. “Mmm, you’re the best,” he mumbles happily. He leans into the hand and his face meets a soft sweater-clad chest. He nuzzles in and feels Baekhyun’s chuckle through the fabric, fingers pulling playfully at his hair in between scritches. 

“So how’d the meeting go?” 

Kris nuzzles in further, the hands in his hair gripping suddenly to keep balance, and Baekhyun chuckles again. “It went great, really really great.” Kris finally blinks his eyes open, but he barely hears Baekhyun’s happy response because he’s staring at the grey fuzzy wool squashed against his face, and—

“...Baekhyun is that my sweater?” Baekhyun’s fingers pause in his hair.

“Hmmmmmm maaaaybe,” Baekhyun drawls above him, tone playful, and Kris lets out a loud frustrated noise. 

“Oh my god I was looking all over for that thi—” he cries, reeling backwards, but he never finishes his sentence, voice instead turning into a strangled choking sound.

Baekhyun’s wearing his sweater all right, the nice grey sweater that he’d been _planning_ to wear today, and like all of Kris’ sweaters on Baekhyun it nearly swallows him, sleeves too long and neck practically falling off one shoulder. And Kris has seen Baekhyun in his shirts often enough that the sight has lost some of its effect—still sexy as hell, but creates less of a hair-trigger response than it used to.

But Baekhyun’s not wearing pants.

Where the sweater hits around mid-thigh instead of the usual jeans or sweatpants or even athletic shorts is an expanse of pale, bare skin all the way down to those dumb SpongeBob fluffy socks that Kris got him _as a joke_ but Baekhyun insists on wearing at every goddamn opportunity. The socks should really put a damper on things but Kris is focusing on thick thighs underneath a short hem and his mouth has gone dry. 

Maybe his thighs are Kris’ favorite part, actually.

He’s not even looking at Baekhyun’s face and he _knows_ his boyfriend has some smirk on, some shit-eating grin that Kris should really do something about but instead his hand is on Baekhyun’s thigh, slowly, ever so slowly inching the soft sweater upwards. He’s expecting to hit something, for his fingers to graze over thin cotton, but instead they just keep inching up and Baekhyun’s not..he’s not…

“You’re not wearing…” Kris says, chokes a little on the sudden heat in his chest, and finally looks up as he trails off. There it is, the shit-eating grin.

“Nope!” Baekhyun says brightly, popping his lips— _god, those lips_ —on the ‘p’. Suddenly his hands are on Kris’ shoulders, pushing backwards, and the next thing Kris knows he’s been shoved back into the couch and Baekhyun’s climbing into his lap, thighs tight beside his waist. Somehow Kris is always surprised by how fast Baekhyun can move when he really wants to.

“Should make this super easy,” Baekhyun says, before swooping down for a kiss. Kris’ hands come up automatically to cradle Baekhyun’s face and neck, and he feels fingers curl into his shoulders in response. Kris presses forward eagerly, slightly over enthusiastic as usual, but Baekhyun keeps the kiss deep and slow, lazily licking into his mouth and Kris can taste chocolate and cinnamon. Kris hums happily and tries to urge Baekhyun on, fingers tensing on Baekhyun’s neck. Baekhyun bites sharply at Kris’ lower lip, and it could be meant as a reprimand but his breathy inhale makes Kris think it was maybe more involuntary.

“What’s the occasion?” Kris says, pulling back slightly. He licks his lips, and feels a bit smug when he spots Baekhyun’s eyes dart downward and linger, briefly.

“What, I can’t have spontaneous sex with my boyfriend?” Baekhyun says, shifting his hips down slightly, and Kris’s legs twitch.

“N-no, that is definitely a thing that you can do, like uh, anytime,” Kris says, words stuttering as Baekhyun starts rocking ever so slightly in his lap, just the barest movement. “I just, uh, was wondering,” he says, trying to regain his cool. 

Baekhyun smirks. “Well,” he says, grinding down a little harder. Kris sucks on his lower lip in an inhale, and Baekhyun’s full-out staring at his mouth now. “Consider it a congratulations of sorts, I guess.” His smirk drops, and he bites his lip hard before kissing Kris again, this time much rougher, all teeth and tongue. One hand comes up from Kris’ shoulder to wrap itself in his hair again, tugging lightly, and Kris moans a little into Baekhyun’s mouth. 

Not to be outdone, Kris breaks away with a gasp and starts kissing across Baekhyun’s jaw, down his neck—he’s not playing fair but Baekhyun abandoned fairness with his underwear.

Baekhyun’s really grinding hard now, thighs tightening around Kris as he swivels his hips in small circles. Kris grazes his teeth across Baekhyun's pulse and feels Baekhyun's other hand grip tighter on his shoulder. Success.

“Come on, get these off,” Baekhyun gasps, pulling at Kris’ sweater and jeans, tugging ineffectively. “Before my dick chafes.”

Kris rolls his eyes. “Oh my god Baek just...let me—” he swats Baekhyun’s hands away to tug his own pants and underwear down, Baekhyun shifting up onto his knees out of the way. Baekhyun suddenly leans over to the side to rummage through the side table for something and his— _Kris’_ sweater rides up along the curve of his ass. He wiggles it, just a little, taunting. Kris groans and gives in, palms it, hand splayed across Baekhyun’s skin, fingers long enough to almost cup the whole thing. He grips, fingers digging in just so. A clatter, and Baekhyun falters with a low breathless chuckle. Kris gives himself a mental high-five.

“You almost made me drop the lube,” Baekhyun says, settling back on Kris’ lap. He shoves the bottle in question into Kris’ chest. “Now take your sweater off so you can touch me already.” Kris obliges, scrambling to get his shirt over his head. He moves to do the same to Baekhyun, but gets stopped.

“Oh no, no I think I’m keeping this on. It’s warm and soft and expensive,” Baekhyun says, leering. “Plus, I think you like it, how it makes me look all virginal and naughty.” Kris sputters.

“What, no, I—” Baekhyun just laughs, licking his lips and pulling at the collar of the sweater a little, revealing collarbones in a ridiculous attempt to be coy.

“Oooh, Mr. Wu, ravish me, ooh,” he simpers, fluttering his eyelashes, and Kris decides that he might as well kill two birds with one stone. He lunges for Baekhyun’s neck, latches onto the juncture of his neck and shoulder and _bites_ , sucking at the muscle and skin with his teeth. he can hear Baekhyun’s laughter turn into a small, breathy _“oh,”_ fingers fluttering around Kris’ face and neck, eventually settling for digging into his nape. 

Maybe it’s Baekhyun’s neck that’s Kris’ favorite—fastest way to get Baekhyun to shut up, works 90% of the time, more reliable than their broken TV remote mute button to be honest. He worries at the thin skin above Baekhyun’s collarbone, licking into the hollow there. The high-pitched, light “ohh” and “ahh” he gets is devastating, shooting straight to his dick and finally bringing his semi up to full hardness.

Kris blindly grabs for the lube, barely pausing at Baekhyun’s neck to uncap the lube and slick his fingers. He flings the lube away and with a long, hard suck to the other side of Baekhyun’s neck, plunges his middle finger into Baekhyun’s hole. 

“Oh, fuck,” Baekhyun swears, and drops his head to Kris’ shoulder. Kris pauses a little, letting the burn subside before wiggling his finger and beginning to slowly thrust it in and out. Baekhyun still has his face buried in Kris’ shoulder, otherwise unmoving, hot breath on his skin. Kris doesn’t mind—it gives him a fantastic view over Baekhyun’s shoulder of his finger disappearing into Baekhyun’s ass. He thrusts a little faster, swallowing at the smooth, warm, _tight_ feeling around his finger.

It isn’t until he starts pushing in the second finger that Baekhyun finally stirs, one of his hands unclenching from Kris’ neck to fist desperately at Kris’ dick. Kris tears his eyes away from his fingers in Baekhyun’s ass to see Baekhyun’s beautiful, slender, pretty, _amazing_ piano playing fingers wrapped around his dick, and he’s mesmerized by the sight of the red flushed head moving in and out of the pale delicate circle of Baekhyun’s fingers. Baekhyun’s thumb dips into the slit, pressing slightly at the beading precome and Kris moans. “Fuck, Baek, _yes_.”

Kris slips a third finger in, slowly, stretching at Baekhyun’s slick rim and pushing gently along his prostate on the outstroke. Baekhyun hisses, then pants harder as his grip on Kris’ dick turns jerky and uncoordinated. “That’s—that’s enough, come on,” Baekhyun whines, pulling a little at Kris’ dick.

 _Oh shit_. “Wait.” Kris pauses, fingers slipping out, and Baekhyun actually _whines_ , shoving his hips back in an attempt to keep Kris’ fingers inside and moving. “You forgot the condoms in the bedroom.”

Baekhyun groans in frustration, muffled by Kris’ shoulder as he trips over his words. “Well it’s not my fault you—you just—” Kris laughs, and Baekhyun smacks him in the back of the head, pointedly using his sticky precome handjob hand. “Oh just—fuck, just forget it—it’s your fault, okay.” 

“Okay but if you get spunk on my new sofa—”

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me already.” Baekhyun doesn’t wait for Kris’ snarky response, grabbing his dick mid-eyeroll, positioning himself above it, and sinking down smoothly and swiftly with a loud, long, _obscene_ moan. 

Kris chokes and throws his head back, desperately trying not to flex upward and deeper, mouth open in a silent groan. Baekhyun’s hands, his long, pretty fingers are digging into Kris’ shoulders, surely leaving tiny red crescents that he’ll preen over later, admiring his handiwork. Baekhyun is unmoving in Kris’ lap, breathing shallowly, eyes closed and face pinched in concentration. Kris somehow manages the presence of mind to bring one of his hands up to Baekhyun’s hip, rubbing over the skin there soothingly. Baekhyun gives a full-body shudder and exhales loudly, settling down that last centimeter and resting his weight on Kris’ thighs. 

He opens his eyes and looks at Kris, eyes dark and heavy and desperate under his brown fringe, breathing hard through lips shiny and chapped from licking and biting them too much. He seems to know that Kris is about to say something really cliche and embarrassing, smiles—tries to smirk, but it comes out wobbly—and moves.

Baekhyun sets a punishing pace, thighs clenching as he rides Kris’ dick, bouncing up and down frantically, as if his life depends on it. With each drop, Baekhyun gasps wetly, soon panting for air and bracing himself on Kris’ chest. After a few minutes, Kris’ muscles finally catch up with his overstimulated brain and on the next bounce down, he grabs Baekhyun’s hips with both hands and thrusts upwards, driving his dick deep into Baekhyun and making him cry out.

“Fuck! Yes, _god_ Kris, yes, _yes_ took you for fucking _ever,_ oh my god—” Baekhyun’s rambling now, and normally Kris would snark back, (or try to), but he’s transfixed by the sight of his hands wrapped around Baekhyun’s wide hips, making them look tiny; by how he can see the outline of Baekhyun’s dick through the sweater, bouncing on each thrust. He’s transfixed by the sheen of sweat glistening on the freshly-bloomed reddish blotches on Baekhyun’s beautifully arched neck, by the now-damp hair sticking to Baekhyun’s forehead, by Baekhyun’s pink mouth open in a wide ‘o’ of pleasure between words. 

Baekhyun’s rhythm starts to get sloppy, and his nonsensical babbling turns into breathy “oh, Kris I’m close, I’m gonna—I need—touch me, _please,_ ” and since Kris can feel his own release tightening in his abdomen, heat pooling in his crotch, he obliges. He shoves his hand under the sweater, not even bothering to flip it up out of the way, and quickly jerks at Baekhyun's dick. Baekhyun wails, chasing his orgasm by throwing himself down onto Kris’ dick and up into the tight circle of his fingers. 

Baekhyun comes with a yell, hips stopping while Kris continues to fuck up into him and pump his dick, working him through it. Kris looks down, and somehow the fact that he _can’t_ see anything, _can’t_ see his gigantic hand almost completely covering Baekhyun’s dick as he jerks him off, only the obscene movements pressing at grey wool and the dark wet stain that is rapidly forming—that feels positively dirty, and that’s what pushes him over the edge, dick shoved deep into Baekhyun’s clenching hole and fingers probably bruising at his hips. 

Eventually, they both come down with pants and sighs, Baekhyun slumping again onto Kris’ sticky, bare shoulder. He mouths affectionately at the skin while Kris wipes his hand resignedly on his soiled sweater, then wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s waist. This is the part that Kris likes the best about sex with Baekhyun, the soft lazy cuddles after, the low humming noises Baekhyun makes as he nuzzles and draws patterns into Kris’ skin with his fingertips. Baekhyun is never truly quiet, but in these moments Kris doesn’t care at all.

Sadly, it doesn’t last. Even with a space heater, the cold air in the apartment sends chills on their damp skin and both of them shiver. “Time for a shower,” Baek says, pulling back and letting Kris’ soft dick slide out of him with a wince. Kris takes in the state of his sweater and pouts. “I can’t believe I let you ruin my favorite sweater.”

Baekhyun grins. “It was fun, though, right?” Kris makes an unconvinced noise, half-playing at annoyance. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, leans down and kisses Kris long and slow—not dirty, just affectionate—and Kris finds himself smiling brightly when he finally pulls away to the bathroom. Kris watches him go, then begins to busy himself tidying himself up and the now-lukewarm cocoa.

It’s not until he hears the shower turn on through the open bathroom door that a thought occurs to him, and he freezes, cocoa tipping dangerously in his hands.

“Baekhyun!” He yells, and Baekhyun must not be in the shower yet because he replies clearly.

“Yes?”

“Were you _freeballing_ all morning on my couch?” There is a pause.

“I love you?” 

_“Baekhyun!”_  


**Author's Note:**

> ~~The stealth ship is xiuhan i'm sorry im xiuhan trash~~


End file.
